


Twenty-Eight Miles Across The Sea

by The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eroda, Eventual Happy Ending, Famous Louis Tomlinson, Fluff and Angst, I Can't Believe I'm The First One Using That Tag, M/M, Non-Famous Harry, Not Exactly Slow Burn But the Large Amount of World Building Makes It Seem So, One Direction Exists Without Harry, Or At Least The End Of It, Strangers to Lovers, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Zayn Still Leaves Im Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships/pseuds/The_Red_Queen_Ships_The_Ships
Summary: Louis is still struggling to cope with Zayn leaving the band when he decides to book a ticket to a strange place called Eroda. There, he meets a strange, lonely boy with a golden fish and they fall in love.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Twenty-Eight Miles Across The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to believe that I was the first one to write an AU of Larry in Eroda. Also, I'm not British so take my use of British slang with a pinch of salt.

Louis Tomlinson didn’t think he needed help. 

There was an imprint of his arse on his couch that had seen better days, and the telly was constantly flickering between some godawful telemarketer channel and a show dedicated to renovating houses. The curtains were shut tight - which was perfect, because with how lidded his eyes were, he wasn’t sure he could handle the bright light of the outside world. He was fine in his little oasis, a cold beer he had been nursing since he first plopped down on his comfier-than-it-should-be couch cradled tentatively in his hands. He was fine. 

His stomach rolled uncomfortably and he wondered when was the last time he had eaten. Probably long before he decided his schedule for the day was to sit in front of the telly like he was some loser in his mum’s basement. Except he was some loser in his own flat, and he hadn’t seen his mum since he broke the news to her. Take-out sounded nice, but if he had another greasy cup of cheap noodles, the round curve of his stomach that had begun growing would become permanent, and he couldn’t have that, could he? Not when his Instagram feed was filled with half-naked pictures of one of his best mate’s - admittedly, although Louis would never say it to his face - perfectly toned body. He felt bad enough as it was. 

So no. Louis Tomlinson didn’t need help. He just needed something to do. 

With how sedentary and pathetic his day was going so far, it was a wonder how Louis had managed to be part of something as exciting and nerve-wracking as a successful boy band. One Direction wasn’t anything revolutionary. It was a group of four lads with too tight jeans who had sung their hearts out to hordes of mainly teenaged fans. Yet, somehow their little group managed to rise on the charts before dominating it for weeks at a time, gaining recognition and awards and more fame then they knew what to do with. It was exhilarating, singing to dedicated and passionate fans every night, their voices surging around them like tidal waves. It was amazing and terrifying and jaw-dropping.

And it was all gone. 

Louis rolled his neck lazily, popping a few bones. He exhaled and wondered what to do. Eventually, he needed to eat. If not that, then at least shower. It was well past five in the afternoon and he hadn’t showered in God knows how long. Maybe he should freshen up and go out? He hadn’t had a night to party and drink and let loose since well before the band fell apart. He deserved a little fun. 

But that meant getting up from the couch. And he couldn’t do that. 

As if reading his thoughts, a loud chime blared in the near silence of the room. The telly’s volume was low in hopes of lulling Louis to sleep, but his eyes had refused to close. He rubbed them and reached for his phone, which was in need of a good charge and a replacement. He frowned, remembering the action of hurtling it at the wall after receiving the news, and it was through the grace of his sturdy phone case that the thing didn’t shatter on impact. But now there was an uncomfortably large crack on the screen and guilt on his mind. 

He didn’t bother checking the caller I.D., since not that many people called him nowadays, and answered blearily, “ ‘Ello?”

“Lou?” The familiar voice made him frown harder. 

“Liam? What’s wrong?”

Liam’s voice was weird when he responded, but then again, it had been since they realized they couldn’t continue their dream came crashing down. Louis guessed it was his way of processing things. At least he was processing things. “Nothing, I just - I wanted to check up on you.”

His eyebrows rose up to his hairline, and he couldn’t help but scoff. “Check up? I'm a big boy, Payno, I can take care of myself." Even though he was joking, his words fell flat and hollow. 

Liam still backpedaled, as if afraid to tell Louis what he really felt. "No, of course, yeah. It's just that we haven't really, like, hung out or even seen each other in a while."

Louis frowned and played with the strings of his trackies. "We saw each other every day in the band. Sue me for taking time out for myself." 

"It's been a month, Lou," Liam sighed. "Your mum called a few weeks back, she said you hadn't been picking up the phone."

"I've picked it up now, though," he snapped. Which was unfair and mean, yeah, but Louis couldn’t help the hint of bitterness from rising in his chest every time they expressed worry about his current condition. He was  _ fine _ . He didn’t need to do an underwear brand shoot or co-host a talk show like Liam and Niall were doing. He needed a vacation, damn it. 

Liam’s voice interrupted his mental tirade. “I don’t want to fight,” he said, and Louis’ anger flickered out. God, he was a right mess, wasn’t he? Liam didn’t do anything wrong. Of course not. Maybe day drinking wasn’t a good idea. “I just - we’re worried about you. All of us. After what happened with Zayn-”

“Don’t,” Louis snapped, but there was no heat in it. He was must be more tired than he previously thought because his eyes were drooping shut. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

But Liam was a stubborn fucker and plowed right through. “Have you talked to him at all?”

He laughed bitterly. “Talked to him? You’re jokin’, right? Why would Zayn talk to me?” The line on the other side was quiet and Louis sat up. “Don’t tell me…”

Liam’s voice was apologetic. “Well…”

“Payno, no.”

“Lou...”

“You called him? You had a chat with Zayn behind me back and what?” His laugh was bitter and hoarse and he could feel the hurt sticking in his throat. “Had a nice chat? Talked about your undying love for each other?” 

“It wasn’t like that.” Liam sounded more agitated than when he first called. “We had to hash out what kind of narrative to spin and how we would play it off.”  _ Play it off _ , as if Zayn disappearing without a word and them getting an email from his team - because Zayn hired a team without telling them, of course - a week after wasn’t one of the worst days of Louis’ life. 

“So you forgave him, then?” Louis asked, too tired to be mad. His eyes shifted to the telly, reruns of a show no one enjoyed from the 60s playing on the screen. 

There was a slight pause. “No.” Liam cleared his throat. “But I don’t hate him for it. Louis, you should-”

He shut his eyes. “No.”

“I’m not saying you have to forgive him, or even forget. But Zayn was one of your best mates, yeah? You’ll regret it if you never talk.”

Who was he, his therapist? “Did Niall, uh, also-”

“He was with me when he called.”

“He called,” Louis echoed lamely. 

And that. That wasn’t right. Zayn called Liam. He called Liam and Niall about PR or whatever, and didn’t think about calling Louis? Yeah, Louis had been ignoring his phone calls for a while now, but not once had he seen Zayn’s caller I.D. pop up the months after he disappeared. Why should he make the first move, as if he did something wrong? His irritation flared up, and suddenly Louis couldn’t stand Liam’s gentle, yet pitying voice. 

“I have to go,” he said. 

“Lou-”

“Bye Payno.” Then he ended the call. 

Now he was back to square one. He wasn’t in the mood to do much anymore, the telly suddenly graining and obnoxious. He supposed take-out wouldn’t hurt, although the idea of interacting with anyone, even an underpaid delivery boy, was unappealing. Louis groaned and stood up, his bones cracking in protest. The telly switched to commercial break and he searched the couch for the remote. 

A pleasant female voice began talking, strangely loud despite the low volume. “Do you remember the way that you felt off the coast of Eroda?”

He paused and looked up. Shots of crashing waves and squawking birds captured his attention. Fish dumped from nets and delicious food prepared in a pleasant-looking shop. The narrator’s voice washed over him, soothing him. It was a plain ad, the kind you’d see anywhere, yet there was something . . .weird about it. Something he couldn’t put his hands on. 

“No land quite like it,” she continued as an image of a fish and the website name showed up on the screen. The commercial ended and Louis blinked. An ad for the newest Subura came on next along with an obnoxious song, so he switched it off. 

“Eroda, huh,” he thought out loud. He had never heard of the place before. It seemed nice, and Louis really needed a vacation. 

His stomach let out an embarrassing growl and Louis switched his attention to a more pressing issue. Thai food it was. 

  
  
  


Louis didn’t think about the strange ad again until three days later when he forwent all formalities and just stayed in bed, scrolling through his Instagram feed. He liked a few pictures of his famous friends, added a few comments to let people know that he was alive, but he ignored all posts about One Direction and Zayn. When the news went out, the internet exploded. He knew because he got a call from his manager saying those exact words. One Direction was a pretty successful band, but the amount of attention and publicity they received those few days was more than they ever had. Suddenly, everyone couldn’t stop talking about One Direction. 

It was true what they said. You only became famous when you died. 

They waited a few weeks before releasing a public statement about his departure (Louis had no part in it, he was too upset to keep things professional and cordial) and their social medias were monitored like hawks. 

Now that things had quieted down, his feed was less chaotic and, other than Liam’s half-naked underwear shoot, perfectly normal. But then he would come across a post about how Zayn was doing and he couldn’t stop his heartbeat from spiking. He wondered when it would stop hurting.

Right now, everything was fine. He was scrolling so mindlessly that he almost missed it. But he recognized the fish and stopped. Another ad for Eroda. It was a simple shot of a port with glistening white boats sitting patiently in the water. The caption was simply ‘Visit Eroda’. 

Simplistic and straight to the point. He liked it. 

Curiously, he scrolled through the comments. 

_ ‘Eroda has been a life-changing experience. Loved it!’ _

_ ‘I adore Eroda with my whole heart!’  _

_ ‘I think I want to stay in Eroda forever.’  _

_ ‘I hope no one minds my pet pig, I want to mention her in the pub.’ _

The last one didn’t make sense so Louis dismissed it as a troll account. All the comments seemed positive, overly so. He couldn’t help but click on the account and search its profile. It was filled with nothing but the same types of posts: beautiful scenery and a caption to visit Eroda. All the comments were positive as well. 

Even more curious than before, Louis googled it. There was nothing but a link to the Instagram account, a verified Twitter, and a website. The rest of Google gave him definitions of ‘erode’. He was seventy-five percent sure the place wasn’t a scam. He wanted a vacation, yeah, but was it worth leaving the comfort of his home? He still didn’t feel like a proper human being, and Liam’s words still floated in his head. 

_ We’re worried about you. _

Louis was fine. He was more than fine. He didn’t know why everyone was so worried about him, he was stronger than he looked. He knew how to hold on. 

_ We’re worried about you.  _

Who was? His family? Liam? Niall? His fans? Was Zayn worried? Did he care? Apparently not if he hadn’t bothered to call him.

Louis rubbed his face, willing the thoughts to go away. He just needed a break. A short vacation away from judgemental eyes and unwarranted pity. He needed to be by himself for a bit. Just to relax. To breathe. 

The ringing of his phone shook him from his thoughts. It was Niall, who often rang at odd hours of the day to ramble about life and golf and beer, even while they were in the band. Louis felt guilty for pushing Niall away. He was just as hurt as the rest of them when they got the news, but he had put on a brave face and tried to lift the other boys’ spirits. He still smiled like the sun would shine forever, and he genuinely believed they were alright. That the band would be alright. He was probably the only one who wasn’t mad at Zayn. After receiving the news, Niall’s eyes were downcast and he murmured, “Oh,” as if he understood. He probably did. Niall had more empathy then he knew what to do with. It was almost as if he could crawl inside your brain and understand what was wrong and how to make it right again. 

But Louis didn’t have Niall’s kindness or his bottomless capacity to forgive. 

He tossed his phone aside and settled into his blankets. He stared at the ceiling until the phone stopped ringing and everything was silent. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pulled up a travel site. It didn’t take him long to book a flight to Eroda.    
  


Louis doesn’t tell anyone about his plans, which was probably his first mistake. He knew that if he ran this past his friends and family, they would be against an impromptu vacation to a strange island no one had ever heard before. After booking his flight, he spent hours scrolling through the internet for mentions of Eroda. Other than the official Instagram and Twitter, there were no posts or articles about the place. No one prominent had ever gone. They didn’t advertise anywhere. It was almost secret, and it was perfect for a boyband member to hide from the rest of the world. 

His flight was a week after. He called his mum, and after ten minutes of her ranting about how he needed to call more often and hang out with actual humans, then another five minutes of her reminding him of how much she loved him and would support him no matter what, he told her that he was going on a trip.

“A trip?” She asked, surprised. ”Is it One Direction things?”

“Er…” Louis couldn’t lie to her. She was his first fan, the one who pushed him to audition for the X-Factor despite his nerves and the voice in his head that told him that he would fail. She supported him when he was first put in the band and never stopped. The news had hit her almost as bad as it hit the boys. He couldn’t bear lying to her after all she had done. He wasn’t that awful of a son. 

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Somewhat. It’s more for me than the band, mum.”

He didn’t have to be with her to know that she was nodding slowly, a concentrated look on her face. She cared a lot, he knew. She couldn’t help from being worried. “So you’ll be by yourself?” She asked. “Where will you go?”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “It’s a fishing village not too far off the coast of the U.K. I won’t be that far away.”

“How long will you be gone for?”

He hesitated. He hadn’t bought a return flight. He wasn't sure how long the trip would take - if he would hate it after three days or let the world slip his mind until he was gone forever. "Not too long, I hope," he answered half-honestly. "Don't worry about me, mum. I'll be alright." 

She didn't sound like she believed him, but she didn't push. They continued talking for a few more minutes before Louis feigned sleepiness and they ended the call. He then texted his sisters that he would be gone for a while to deter them from giving him a surprise visit. He almost called Niall and Liam but stopped himself right as his thumb hovered over the call button. They would be against it. He knew without having to talk to them. 

Maybe keeping this from them was worse, but Louis didn't have it in him to listen to them rant about how they hadn't hung out in ages and needed to strengthen their friendship before resentment filled the cracks Zayn left behind. He needed to be alone. He needed this for himself. 

He'll send them a postcard. 

  
  
  


Getting through airport security was easier than he imagined. Because this was an impromptu trip, he hadn't mentioned any of it to his team or security. They were going to be pissed when they found out, but Louis wanted to do this thing on his own. He covered himself in a heavy overcoat, baseball hat, and large sunglasses, and was pleased to find out that his shitty disguise got him through security with no incident. His gate was quiet when he got there, the staff too sleep-deprived at five in the morning to notice an international superstar in their midst. 

The actual airplane ride was short. About a dozen or so passengers were actually on it, buzzing about Eroda and how much fun they would have there. Louis listened closely, noting how every praise he heard sounded exactly like the tweets he saw from Eroda's official account. 

He dozed off for a while but was startled awake by the bumpy landing. He only had a small suitcase and his backpack, which he filled with his laptop and some toiletries. He packed light, with enough clothes to last him a week. He managed to leave the airport easy and quick, surprised that no one had stopped him for an autograph yet. There weren’t a lot of cabs waiting outside, but he managed to find one soon enough. The driver had a beaten flat cap and grisly white whiskers covering leathery skin. He seemed nice enough and offered to put Louis’ suitcase in the trunk of his cab. 

“Where ye headed off to?” The man asked, adjusting his mirror. 

Louis buckled his seatbelt. He probably should have searched up accommodations before he got on his flight. “What’s the best place to stay the night?”

The driver pulled out of the tiny airport. It was cloudy and a little drizzly, but there was something beautiful and a little mystical about the low fog over the acres of green land. The airport was on a hill that overlooked rolling pastures and, in a distance, a cluster of buildings that must have been the island’s capital, Garona. The island was so small, Louis was sure he could see the other side of it if he tried hard enough. 

“If ye want a beautiful view in the morning,” the cab driver said after a few minutes of calm silence, “the Seaview Cottages are perfect. It’s a little over that way, on top of some cliffs. If ye don’t mind a drive, Yuna Inn’s only a stone’s throw away from the city center. First time in Eroda, innit?”

Louis smiled weakly. “That easy to tell?”

There was an almost amused twinkle in his eye, although his stony expression didn’t change. “You’ll like it. Everyone does.”

Alright then. 

They’re quiet the rest of the journey. Louis stares out the window, his fingers tapping nervously on his leg. Now that he was here, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was a big mistake. What was he doing on an island by himself, without warning his management or friends? Yeah, his family knew, but not the details. What if he was found out? What if someone snapped a pic of him, and the entire world invaded his vacation? The cab driver was probably too old to recognize him or listen to the Top 40s, but there were teenaged girls everywhere. 

He swallowed hard and checked his phone. Surprisingly, there was pretty good service, and he quickly checked his messages. No one suspected him missing, it’d barely been a day. There was a text from Niall asking to hang out soon and an email from his PR team about making a statement before the entire world thought he was dead. Ignoring those, he went back to the Eroda website. He had dug around before, but now he read over the accommodations tab more in-depth. He read about Yuna Inn, although the description didn’t give him much. Just a nice inn that’s popular. He looked at the attractions, the testimonials, then the about section. 

_ ‘ The Isle of Eroda’s rich history is embedded in daily life as the ruins of many structures from the past remain standing across the land.’ _

He could see that. As the cab hunkered down the road towards the town, crumbling stone structures peppered the rolling hills. There were a lot of hills here. The window was slightly lowered, and every now and then Louis could smell the heavy scent of fish. It took maybe half an hour to make it to the town, a ‘Welcome to Yuna’ sign hanging crookedly on a rusted metal pole. It said something about the place if he could go from the island’s capital to a town on pretty much the other side in so short of time. 

The sea was still visible as they rode into town. The buildings were short and charming, thatched roofs and brown paneling and something that made everything feel like it belonged in a fairy tale. The houses looked like cottages and the shops had bicycles laying around with no chains. There were minimal cars. Almost everyone walked, and Louis couldn’t help but note the slightly eccentric hairstyles, at odds with the gloomy yet romantic feel to the place. The streets were pebbled and wide. It was. . .well. It was lovely. Even he could admit that. The cab driver pulled up to a nice building with gray stone walls and a bright blue door. ‘Yuna Inn’ was painted above it. 

“Thank you,” he said, pulling out a thick wad of money. He hadn’t been paying attention to how much the ride would cost, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. “Keep the change.”

The man raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. “Should I know you from somewhere?”

“No,” Louis said, and he left the car. Stepping onto the street was a little intimidating. He adjusted his sunglasses and looked around. No one seemed to pay him any mind. Other than the inhabitants of the island, he could recognize a few tourists taking pictures besides interesting shops and flaunting “I Love NYC” jumpers and the like. He let himself relax. No one would realize he was here. No one would suspect someone like him somewhere like this. 

Resolved and determined, Louis entered Yuna Inn. A bell jingled above the door to announce his arrival. A serious-looking woman stood primly behind the receptionist’s desk, flipping through a magazine on fishing supplies. He ducked his head in case she recognized his face and asked in his most charming voice, “Room for one, please?”

She didn’t look up as she typed something into an ancient computer. Her voice was bored when she asked, “How long you staying for?”

Louis huffed out a laugh and hoped he didn’t sound nervous. “Uh, a week? Maybe?”

She lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow, studying him. He fidgeted under her intense gaze. “...Right. Well, I’ll put you down for a week. Extensions to your stay have to be announced two days in advance, in case we have more guests who need the rooms. For a limited time, we have our luxury suites for half a price. Would you like to book it?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Name?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Tom L.”

“Cash or credit?”

“Cash, please.”

He paid and she handed him a key with a fish charm attached to it. It was the same fish on the Eroda website. This place really went all the way, huh. She gestured at someone behind her and suddenly a petite girl with her dark hair in intricate buns appeared right next to him. He couldn’t help but jump at her sudden entrance. The girl didn’t seem to notice. She just took Louis’ bags and began leading him up wooden stairs. There were three floors, each rich in plush carpeting. Gilded light scones washed the hallways in golden light, and there was the faint smell of cherries everywhere. Louis could see why it was so popular.

He tried to make conversation with the girl. “Any recommendations for a fun night, love?”

She barely spared him a glance. Her voice was high and melodious. “Depends on what you think of as fun.”

“Fair enough.” They end up on the third floor and walk down the rather long hallway to the last door on the right. “Any pubs around?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said after a beat. “I’m seventeen.”

Well, now Louis felt stupid. “Oh,” he said, hoping he wasn’t blushing as much as he thought he was. 

A wry twist of her lips told him he probably was. “My mum enjoys the Fisherman Pub.” She inclined her head to the stairs and Louis realized who she was referring to immediately. “It’s on the corner of Cherry Street and Golden Way. Not too far from here, you’ll hear it before you see it.”

He took his bags from her with a smile. “Thanks, love.”

She nodded, expression still silent. Christ, did the locals not know how to smile or what? “Remember not to mention a pig in there.” She turned and hopped back downstairs. 

Louis stared after her. What?

  
  
  


The room was, Louis had to admit, fucking amazing. The walls were cream-colored with photographs of oceans and mountains on the wall. The bed was king-sized, with a fluffy white comforter and enough pillows to build an impressive fort. The carpet was thick and matched the blue curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the town’s center. Not too far away, he could see the smudge of the ocean. There was an en suite bathroom that Louis would love to take advantage of if he wasn’t so tired from the trip. 

Sure, the place wasn’t a five-star hotel in L.A., but it was pretty and cozy. He dropped his bags at the foot of the bed and flopped on it. It was comfier than it looked. He laid there for a moment, at peace with himself. The rest of the world didn’t exist. He felt his eyes slipping closed. He must have dozed off for a while when the sharp ringing of his phone made him jump. 

Niall. 

Wasn’t he insistent?

Before he could lose his nerve, he picked up the call. “ ‘Ello?”

“Oh, thank fuck you answered,” Niall’s loud and boisterous voice filled Louis’ ear and made him wince. He pulled the phone away from his ear. “I was worried you were ignoring phone calls again.” He said it like it was normal for Louis to hide away from the world and refuse to interact with humans. He didn’t know if he was guilty or annoyed. 

“What’s up Nialler?” he sighed. 

There was music in the background and incomprehensible voices. Was Niall at a party? “I haven’t talked to you in a while. Was wondering how you were getting on.”

“Getting on,” Louis repeated. “Have you been talking to Liam?”

“ ‘Course I have,” Niall said. “He’s Liam. We talk all the time.”

“Right,” Louis nodded, although Niall couldn’t see him. That was what normal people did. Talk to their friends regularly. 

Niall refused to let them have an awkward silence. He barreled on. “Liam and I’ve been talking, and we thought we could swing by your flat once we’re both back in Lond-”

“What? No!” Panic built up in Louis’ chest and he swallowed to keep it down. 

“Lou, we haven’t seen you in forever,” Niall argued. “I know you needed your space, and we gave you that. But you can’t hide for the rest of your life.”

“I’m not hiding,” Louis mumbled. What he was doing right now was basically hiding, but Niall didn’t need to know that. “I just - not right now. Let me prepare myself, first.”

Niall was quiet for a minute, clearly thinking it over. “I want to give you all the time in the world - trust me, I do. You had the hardest time with the whole Zayn situation. But Modest been on me and Liam’s ass all week. One Direction has been dead for so long, fans started putting up missing posters.” 

Louis snorted softly, amused at the thought. But then the rest of his words hit him, and suddenly his jumper felt too tight. He pulled at the collar. “What do they want?”

“We need to make a statement ‘bout the band,” Niall said, a little apologetic. “Either we’re going to release another album without Zayn, which means we need to get started writing soon, or we break up.”

“Break up?” Louis squeaked. Sure, he already referred to One Direction in the past tense, but it wasn’t official. They hadn’t really broken up. They were just adjusting to life after Zayn. Breaking up meant that Louis had nothing left. The band had been all he had for the past five years, and without it, Louis would have to find a new direction to go. He wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t. He was so used to the open stage and water fights and cordless mics and excited faces pressing up to meet him, to sing along with him, to follow him as he performed on every continent. How could they even imagine letting that go?

Niall, bless his Irish heart, must have understood his inner panic because he quickly added, “Only if we want to. Liam and I aren’t going to make a decision without you. It’s us three against the world.” 

It used to be the four of them against the world. Look at how quickly that changed. 

Louis cleared his throat, but his voice was still thick with emotion. “I appreciate that, mate, really do, but I can’t - not right now. I’m, er, not feeling so hot right now.” He hoped his shaky voice would sell him. 

“Shit, wait -” There was clattering on the other end, and then all the background noise faded away. “Alright, I’m alone. Y’alright, Lou?”

“Yeah, it of a bug, I think,” he lied. “Might have been something I ate. I don’t want to throw up all over you lads, so I’ll call you when I’m better.” Louis never called.

Niall didn’t sound like he believed him but he let it slide. “Alright. Let us know if you need anything. We care about you. Both of us.”

“Yeah,” Louis swallowed. “I know.” That was what made all of this so hard. He didn’t know why he was having such a hard time keeping his feet on the ground when he knew his friends were there to hold his arms steady. Maybe it was because he kept pushing them away. 

“And Lou,” Niall hesitated a little, which tipped off warning bells in his mind, “about Zayn-”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I know, you’re still upset. You have every right to be. But you two should really talk if we want to sort all of this out. ‘Sides, he really wants to talk to you. Won’t stop moping ‘bout it, really.”

Louis doesn’t know what’s worse. The thought of Niall keeping contact with Zayn enough to know he was moping, or Zayn himself. “If he wants to talk, he should call.” His voice was colder than he meant it to be, but he didn’t regret it. “I’m not ringing him first.”

“Lou-”

“I gotta go,” he interrupted. “Feeling sick and all that.”

Niall sighed and a twinge of guilt pierced Louis’ heart. Niall didn’t deserve to be put in this position. This wasn’t sixth form. “Promise me you’ll take care?”

There was a lump in his throat. “Promise. Tell Liam I said hi.”

“I will.”

Then Louis hung up. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished the entire world would go away. His mouth was dry and he needed a drink. With an annoyed huff, he shuffled off the bed and went in the ensuite bathroom to wash his face and brush the grime off his teeth. He glanced at himself in the mirror - bloodshot eyes, bags heavier than the weight he’d been holding on his shoulders, face pale, pale, pale, pale - and cringed. He didn’t have enough time to make himself look decent, just swept his fringe to the side and patted his cheeks to bring some life to it. Once he deemed himself good enough, he grabbed his wallet and sunglasses, locking the door behind him. 

The lobby was a little bit crowded when he came downstairs, guests milling around and chattering amongst themselves. He ducked his head, nervous that someone would recognize him. Once he made it outside, he took a deep breath of fresh and salty air. Right. Where was that Fisherman’s Pub that girl from earlier was talking about? She said it was on the corner of Cherry Street and Golden Way. Wherever the fuck that was.

He looked around and saw an older man leaning against a shop with flowers on its window. He was smoking a pipe and reading a newspaper. Louis walked up to him and hoped he was nice. “ ‘cuse me, sir, d’you happen to know where the Fisherman’s Pub is?”

The man peered at Louis and blew out a puff of smoke. “On the corner of Cherry Street and Golden Way.”

He tried not to let his irritation show. “Thanks, any idea where that is?”

The man looked half-amused, but just like the other locals, his mouth didn’t quirk up. “First time in Eroda?” He asked. Louis nodded. “S’nice place. Walk down thataway -” he jerked his head to the left, “- and go straight till ye see a shop with a fish on it. Turn left and you’ll hear it before you see it.” 

Louis nodded his thanks, ignoring the familiar phrase, and followed his directions. Walking felt nice, and while the sky was still overcast and gray, there were a few beams of sunlight warming up patches on the ground. His back was warm and he was content with letting the smell of the place fill up his lungs. The streets were a little less busy than Yuna Inn, so he allowed his thoughts to wonder, not paying attention to the world around him. He made it to the shop with the Erodian fish painted on a sign - Eroda’s Official Gift Shop! It proclaimed loudly underneath it - and stopped. There was a prickling at the back of his neck, like someone was watching him. Heart pounding, he turned slightly so he could so behind him while appearing to be checking out the displays in the window. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary, everyone was still milling around, consumed in their own little world. No one was paying him any mind. But the feeling was still there. 

Christ, did he have a stalker? Already? He just arrived. 

He looked around again, eyes sweeping over the busy street. Nothing off. Nothing strange. Nothing pe-

Louis’ eyes froze on a figure standing on the other side of the street. He was wearing a navy blue suit and a worn diving helmet placed firmly on his head. Louis almost thought it was a mascot or something, but there was an intensity to the gaze the strange figure was giving him that made shivers run down his spine. No one else paid the figure any mind, walking past him with a casualness Louis didn’t understand. 

He shook his head. He really needed that drink. 

He tried to walk away but the feeling was still there. He didn’t relax until he turned left and heard loud, jaunty music underneath even louder, jauntier talking. So that was what they meant. The Fisherman’s Pub was a normal-looking pub with dark paneling and a bar almost filled with sea-worn men with leathery faces. He immediately felt at home. He walked up to a beefy bartender. 

“Pint of your best beer, please,” he said, drumming his fingers on the counter. 

The bartender nodded at him. Louis looked around while waiting for his drink. Maybe going out drinking wasn’t the best way to start this vacation - he hadn’t even unpacked yet - but his nerves were buzzing. The bartender passed him his drink and he took a long sip. It was good, better than he expected, and he downed it really quick. Without asking, the bartender topped him off. He clearly understood his customers. Louis turned back around and took longer sips, enjoying the warmness in his belly and buzz in his throat. His gaze wandered around the place, until something blue caught his eye. 

The figure again, with the diving helmet. He was walking slowly, almost forlornly, past the window, head bowed. Louis watched him, hands twitching to do something. He looked so sad. Louis watched him go and took another sip of his beer. 

The next morning, he woke up with an awful taste in his mouth and his head pounding. He rubbed his eyes but stayed flopped on his bed. He didn’t remember much of yesterday, just flashes of the pub and cold drinks being pressed into his eager hands. At some point, he must have stumbled back to the inn, although he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. A quick peek at the window told Louis it wasn’t early enough to be awake. He pressed his face deeper into his pillow and tried to fall back asleep. 

Not too long after, he was woken up by an intense tugging in his bladder. Groaning, he got up and stumbled to the bathroom, quickly taking care of business. He also took the opportunity to shower, relaxing his muscles underneath the hot spray. The complimentary body wash smelled like strawberries and if he used more than he needed to, that was no one’s business but his own. 

Walking out of the shower, Louis felt more alive than he had the last few months. There must have been something in the water. He even found himself humming as he put on simple black skinnies and a worn jumper. He slipped on his shoes and headed downstairs, where the lobby was nearly empty. The receptionist was behind the desk just like yesterday, although today she was flipping through  _ Elle _ . “Mornin’,” he said, just to be polite. 

She nodded without looking at him. “Sleep well?”

He nodded. “Well enough. Don’t think I caught your name, actually.”

She shot him a look he couldn’t describe before supplying, “Elodie. You’ve met my daughter, Clara.”

“Lovely girl.”

“Not sure where her cheekiness comes from, but she has a good head.” She checked her watch. “It’s pretty early. Have plans?”

Louis shook his head, fingers already jammed in his pocket. “Not really. Might explore today, see what’s so great about this place. Know any good breakfast place?”

“Lili’s Cafe is open early during tourist season,” Elodie offered. “It’s just down the street, next to Adoré, the beauty salon. You’ll smell her muffins before you get there.”

Louis smiled genuinely at her. She just stared back. Alright, then. 

He waved goodbye and took a deep breath of fresh air once he was outside. The sun was out today, just barely, rays of light peeking out from behind the clouds. Lili's wasn't far, and he, just like Elodie said, between the heavy salty smell Louis automatically associated with Eroda, he could smell fresh baked goods. He let his nose lead him to a small shop with pale pink walls and white magnolias on every table. Louis wasn’t too keen on coffee, but he humored himself by ordering black coffee along with a tasty-looking scone. He smiled gratefully at the cashier when he handed over the money, his stomach rumbling. He was hungrier than he thought. After getting his coffee, he exited the cafe and looked around. 

It was a pleasant day out, and Louis might as well take advantage of it. Didn’t the website say something about a museum? He took a sip of his coffee and considered it. 

Someone burst out of the salon next door and startled Louis so hard, he spilled some coffee on his hand. “Shit,” he yelped, fingers burning. “Fuck!”

He looked up, about to curse out the stranger, but froze. A man, probably around the same age as Louis, stood in front of the doorway, eyes wide. His dark hair was damp and hanging off of his forehead messily. Louis swallowed, hard. There was a worried crease between the stranger’s eyebrows and he hunched over slightly. Louis’ eyes flickered down and he stared at his hands. 

A goldfish. The stranger was carrying a goldfish in a coffee pot as if it was a child. 

Alright. Okay. What the actual fuck?

Louis’ eyes flickered back up. “I, uh, like your fish?”

The stranger’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. 

Bemused, Louis decided to leave. He knew when he wasn’t wanted. Also, his fingers were burning and he probably should put it in cold water soon. But another glance at the stranger and his ridiculous blue sailor suit made him pause. 

“Oi!” He blurted out, startling the stranger. “You’re that bloke from the other day, with the helmet.”

The stranger looked around as if looking for a place to hide. Awkwardness began filling in right next to the silence, and Louis couldn’t help but feel stupid. What was he doing?

“I mean, yeah. Alright, I’ll, uh, go then.” He lifted his cup in farewell, ignoring the stinging in his fingers. “Cheers.”

He turned to go, but was stopped by a timid, “Thank you.” The voice was deeper than he expected, and the words were rolled out slowly. “For complimenting my fish.” Louis glanced back. 

The stranger’s face was a light pink and he stared at his feet. The fish was clutched even tighter in his hands. Louis would be endeared if he wasn’t a little weirded out. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he said. 

“I-” He started, clearly nervous. He seemed to be battling something inside of him. Louis was about to find an excuse to leave, just to cut the awkwardness, when he continued. “Um. The sunlight.”

He blinked. “What?”

The stranger cringed. His voice trembled as he said, “The sunlight follows you around.” Before Louis could question him - because, really, what the fuck? - the man spun on his feet and walked away, hands still held protectively around his fish. 

A little flabbergasted and very confused, Louis watched his figure get smaller and smaller.

  
  
  


Liam called him when Louis made it back to Yuna Inn. He ignored the call, too distracted with the strange encounter earlier. The young girl, Clara, was straightening the mess of magazines on a coffee table. 

She caught his eyes and quirked an eyebrow. Louis decided that was this island’s version of a smile. “Early morning?” She asked. 

He nodded. He had already finished the scone and his coffee was now cold. His fingers had lowered to a quiet throbbing. “Thought I would get a headstart today. ‘Sides, nine in the morning isn’t that early.”

She hummed and glanced down at the glossy magazines in her hands. 

Louis couldn’t help but ask, “Does everyone know each other on this island? Like, the locals?”

She shrugged. “Well enough. We’re pretty small, everyone lives and dies here.”

“Isn’t that sad?” He asked without thinking about how rude it might come off as. “Staying in one place forever.”

Clara lifted her nose in the air. “We like it. Eroda is home.” She gave him a pointed look. “Why you ask?”

This time, it was Louis’ turn to shrug. “Saw this bloke with a pet fish or summat. I didn’t catch his name.”

“I don’t know anyone with pet fishes, I don’t think. I’ll let you know if I do, Louis.”

He nodded and turned around. Then he turned back. “I’m sorry, what did you call me?” His skin itched as he realized he never told Clara his real name. 

“Isn’t that your name?” She asked, widening her eyes in a way that was all but innocent. “Louis Tomlinson?”

He glanced around furtively and shushed her, although there was no one around. “I- how do you-?”

She wordlessly held up the cover of the magazine and Louis almost choked. On the cover of  _ US Weekly _ was Louis’ face. Well, not just his face, but Niall’s, Liam’s, and Zayn’s as well. It was one of the last photoshoots they did together, promoting something Louis couldn’t remember. They were sitting on a long, almost throne-like couch with gilded frames and plush cushions he could still feel underneath his fingers, their faces frozen in a smirk. It had taken them ten minutes to stop dicking around long enough to get the shot, and those ten minutes were filled with explosive giggles, Niall complaining about the tight jeans they shimmied him in, and Louis muttering inappropriate jokes to make the boys hunch over in laughter. It seemed so long ago, and the Louis staring at him, the Louis with his hair pushed back and his eyes filled with so much light, seemed like a stranger to him. Something terrible and unexplainable passed through him, and he couldn’t help but snatch the magazine from Clara’s hands and press his face close to it. She didn’t seem to mind, just dropped her shoulders in a “what can you do?” sort of way.

Louis’ eyes were drawn to Zayn, who was sitting next to him, his arm thrown around him in such a nonchalant way Louis almost wanted to cry. He couldn’t believe this Zayn was the same one who left them. How long did he plan this for? Did he know, when they were doing the photoshoot? Louis felt sick to his stomach. 

“W-where did you get this?” He demanded.

If Clara was bothered by his sudden mood change, she didn’t say anything. “We have a monthly subscription.”

His eyes widened. “Oh God, does that mean-”

“If you’re worried someone figured out your secret, don’t be. You look like someone who is trying to hide.” Her eyes were heavy and ancient. “A lot of people come to the island of Eroda to hide. That’s why no one looks.”

Reluctantly, Louis released the death grip he had on the magazine. His body was too wound up to relax. “How did you figure it out?”

“I like your band,” she said simply. Louis blinked at her. “You were always my favorite member of One Direction. I could recognize you by your bum, even in those awful trackies you have.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Your mum was right. You are cheeky.”

This was awful. Absolutely terrible. He didn’t think he would actually be discovered in this small island, a place not a lot of people had heard about. He just wanted anonymity, just for a little bit. Just to clear his head. But he should have known that that was a lost cause from the moment he first auditioned for the X-Factor and signed away his privacy. He didn’t know he was on the brink of hyperventilation until he felt a dainty hand on his arm. 

He looked up at Clara’s wide eyes. “I won’t tell anyone. Trust me. Telling anyone you’re here would be bad for mum’s business.”

Louis nodded, chest still tight. “Y-yeah, okay. Do you mind if I-?” He gestured to the magazine. 

She shook her head. “Go ahead. No one would miss it.”

“Do you have any more? With my - our faces on it?”

“None that I’ve seen.”

Louis nodded, maybe a bit too fervently. “Right. Thanks. I’ll just. . .go. Tell me if you do.” His fingerprints imprinted themselves on the magazine cover as he walked robotically up the stairs and to his room. He didn’t even pay attention to the patrons emerging from their rooms, eyes bright and faces smiling. He chucked off his shoes once he was inside, skin warm and itchy. He sat on the side of his bed and stared at it. 

**_‘One Direction Going in Different Directions?’_ ** The title screamed. **_‘After three months of radio silence, the fate of the band is looking bleak.’_ **

He shouldn’t read it. He knew he shouldn’t. They hadn’t even talked about it as a band, there was no way _ US Weekly _ was going to know what they were planning. Obviously, they would stay a band. 

Right? 

Oh God, what if Niall’s worried phone calls were to let Louis know gently that he didn’t want to be tied down anymore? What if both he and Liam wanted to run, but Zayn was the only one who was brave enough to do it and now they wanted to take the easy way out? What if Louis was the only one who was keeping them from locked to something they hated? Louis flung  _ US Weekly _ to the wall, crawled to on his bed, and stuffed his face in a pillow. 

He forgot about the strange guy with the pet fish. 

  
  
  


Louis’ stomach woke him up. It couldn’t have been more than three hours since he fell asleep, but he felt like death. His mouth was filled with cotton and his eyes were sealed shut with grime. Ignoring the pounding in his head, he stumbled into the bathroom and washed his face. He pointedly ignored the magazine still flopped on the ground and straightened out his now rumpled clothes. His phone rang and he ignored it. 

“Bit pathetic, even for you,” he murmured to himself. He had been here for almost two days now and he had done nothing but drink and sleep. He clearly needed to get his mind off of things. 

That was why, once his phone was silent, he pulled up the island’s website. He needed to do something before he obsessed over the magazine all day. Various Twitter accounts had mentioned going to the lighthouse, which wasn’t far from Garona, the city where Louis landed. He wanted to at least go there once before he left. The movie theater was the closest attraction he could see, although when he clicked on the link to figure out what would be playing, it led him to an error page. He shrugged. It’ll be a surprise, then. 

He reluctantly pulled on his checkered Vans and threw on a coat. 

A few families were milling around, waving brochures and guides that Louis probably should have picked up. Clara was nowhere around and Elodie was busy calming down an angry tourist whose room had a broken heater. He slipped out easily enough and strolled down the street, taking a moment to just breathe and enjoy. Eroda wasn’t much different from your average fishing island. It clearly wasn’t London or New York City or even L.A., where Louis spent a lot of time hopping between when he was in the band. Despite that, there really was something about it that charmed him. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but it made his head tip up a bit higher to feel the occasional warmth of the sun from behind the almost perpetual cloud coverage. 

Navigating the streets, Louis was struck with a painful memory. A couple of years after they were first formed, when the giddiness of being famous hadn’t faded yet, Louis and Zayn donned on tourist hats and got lost in the streets of Barcelona after a particularly exhilarating concert. They got lost, obviously, but were too happy to give a damn. Louis had draped his arm around Zayn while the other boy whispered his dreams into the empty streets. At some point, they stumbled into a group of fans who recognized them and then had to climb a fence and a ledge to get away. They shared a joint and a laugh on a stranger’s roof, and Louis had been so so happy. 

After calming down, Zayn leaned back and stared at the starry sky. “D’you reckon we’ll do this forever?”

Louis, a little high and still running off of excess adrenaline, snorted. “Of course. This is just the beginning, Zaynie.”

Zayn was more somber than the situation called for. Louis didn’t notice. “I love the band,” he said, as if he was trying to prove it to someone. “I love you lads. Can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

Louis grinned stupidly and pulled Zayn closer. He grounded the joint next to them and flicked it off the roof. “Well, you’ll never have to. I’ll be around you so much you’ll beg me to fuck off.”

He gave him a private smile and now, several years later, Louis wondered if Zayn knew. If he knew how much shite he was going to put the band,  _ Louis _ , in. 

He stopped, lost in memories. He would’ve stayed frozen on the sidewalk forever if a familiar face didn’t appear right in front of him. He blinked. Then blinked again. 

“Fish guy?” He blurted out.

The stranger with the pet fish - Louis  _ really _ needed a name for him - cocked his head to the side in confusion. His brown hair, which was pushed back earlier, fell in his face and Louis was lost in the brilliant green of his eyes. He didn’t think he had ever seen someone with such beautiful eyes, not up close at least. It struck Louis just how. . .handsome the stranger looked. No, not handsome. Beautiful. He hadn’t met someone who was simply beautiful, not since Zayn and his otherworldly beauty. This stranger had a sharp jaw and nicely sloped nose and his stare was intense, as if Louis was the only person in the world. For a second, Louis forgot that he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk while the stranger cradled the fish in the coffeepot and just . . .stared.

The fish splashing in the coffee shop broke Louis out of his creepy staring. The stranger glanced down at the fish - it scales were glinting, Louis noticed, as if sunlight was pouring right out of it - and his eyes softened. “S’alright,” the stranger murmured. “He’s alright.” Louis didn’t know if he was talking to the fish or him.

“This is the third time we’ve met,” Louis said just to say something because his eyes were trained on the pinkness of his lips and his brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t working. “Either you’re stalking me or the universe is trying to pull my leg.”

“ ‘m not stalking you,” the stranger mumbled. 

“Then why were you watching me yesterday?”

“Wasn’t watching you,” he argued. “I was looking at you.”

“They mean the same thing!”

“No, I mean -” He shook his head. “You caught my eye. I couldn’t look away.” Was, was he flirting? Did Louis want him to flirt?

“So this is just a coincidence?” Louis asked, skeptical. 

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Louis snorted. “I don’t believe in those.”

The stranger stared at Louis for a brief, uncomfortable moment before shifting his focus to his fish. There was a bright light in his eyes and Louis felt like he was intruding on something personal. He didn’t even know why he was standing there, conversing with this stranger when he had an island to explore. 

Something kept Louis from moving his feet. If he was brave, he would have called it  _ curiosity _ . If he was drunk, he would call it  _ interest _ . 

It was a good thing he was sober and a coward. 

“I-” He began, but was jostled by a tourist in a hurry who wasn’t paying attention. 

“Sorry!” She apologized, shooting him a sincere look before running off to join her friends. The interruption snapped Louis out of whatever this was. The rest of the world rushed in and he felt his cheeks redden. It wasn’t the girl who made Louis take a self-conscious step back and adjust his cap so that the brim covered more of his face. It was her t-shirt, a simple white thing with blown up faces of Louis and his bandmates on them. It was one of the earlier designs of their merch, back when they had awful hair that covered 75% of their faces and awkward smiles. The infamous “beach” photoshoot that Louis regretted with every inch of his body, but right then it made him nostalgic for the simple past. 

What was he doing again? Right, exploring Eroda to get his mind off of One Direction. He was doing a  _ stellar  _ job of that. 

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes trained on the ground. “Sorry, I’ll let you go off-”

“Are you new here?” The stranger interrupted. 

Louis glanced at him. “What?”

The stranger’s cheeks were flushed and he rubbed the surface of the coffeepot nervously.  _ It was adorable _ , Louis’ mind couldn’t help but think. He needed his mind to shut up for a little bit. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I just landed here yesterday, yeah,” he said awkwardly, curious to know where this was going. “Visiting for a bit.”

The stranger nodded and looked down. “The sun’s been shining since yesterday.”

Louis looked up at the sky, a lot less cloudy than yesterday, but with enough streaks of white to scar the beautiful blue sky. That didn’t stop the sun from deep frying him from where it’s rays hit his skin. Louis would need to buy sunscreen at this rate. “I guess, yeah.”

“D’you think that’s a coincidence?” The stranger murmured, so softly Louis was sure it wasn’t for him. _ Once is chance, twice is coincidence _ , _ three times is a pattern _ , Louis thought. 

“No,” he said. 

The fish splashed again before Louis could say anything stupid. It poked its head against the glass, staring up imploringly at the stranger. Or as imploringly as a fish could. 

“Right, you need food,” the stranger sighed. He looked around, a little lost.

That should have been Louis’ cue to leave. But he lingered. “Does your pet have a name?”

“He’s not a pet,” he mumbled. “He’s my friend.”

Louis understood, kind of. Louis had a dog. He had two, in fact, and when he was on tour or in the recording studio or interviews, he would entrust their care into his mom’s hands. He loved those dogs, they didn’t care if Louis curled up in his bed most days and stared blankly at the wall. So he understood the love and devotion someone could have towards their pet. And if their best friend was a fish, who was Louis to dictate what pets deserved it?

“Does your friend have a name?” He amended. 

“Not yet. He needs, er, food first.” 

Louis raised an eyebrow, then realized where exactly they were standing. In big, blocky letters was the sign, ‘ _ Bone Appetit _ ’ above a quaint-looking pet shop. The windows had displays of dog toys and hamster wheels, and paw print stickers replaced the ‘o’ in  _ Bone _ . “Right, I should probably let you get on with that.”

“Can you come with me?” The stranger asked. If Louis’ eyebrow could go any higher, they would disappear. The stranger, probably realizing the strangeness of the request, quickly added, “I-if you would like. I haven’t - I don’t know much about this. And I don’t think they would-”

Louis raised a hand. The stranger stopped his rambling immediately. He shifted nervously, the fish moving with him. “We’re strangers, though?”

He shrugged. “You seem nice, and you’re talking to me.” He ducked his head. “And I believe in coincidences.”

Something warm fluttered in Louis’ chest and he stamped it down before he could put a name to it. “I don’t even know you.”

He looked up and held Louis’ gaze and - wow. There was something about his eyes that made Louis’ knees weak, and he wasn’t sure he knew what it was. He had to get a grip. This wasn’t like him. He did not go weak for strangers in a fishing village. 

“But I would like to,” Louis said. Of course, his mouth didn’t listen. “D’you have a name, Mr. Stalker?”

“ ‘m not a stalker,” he said, exasperated but in a good way. At least, Louis thought (hoped) it was in a good way. “Maybe you’re the one stalking me.”

Louis couldn’t help it. He laughed, short and surprised. “Trust me, fish guy, if I was, you’d never know.”

He stared at Louis, eyes alight with something. Louis would find it awkward if anyone else was staring at him like that. The stranger took a step closer - Christ, he was tall, wasn’t he? A solid head, at least - and peered down at Louis. “I was right,” he murmured, voice low enough to send shivers down Louis’ spine. “Sunlight.”

It occurred to Louis, a little belatedly, he was ashamed to admit, that this stranger could be a crazy fan waiting until the right moment to whip out a phone and tweet Louis’ location for the rest of the world to see. He didn’t look like he recognized him, and Clara had reassured him that no one would notice, but still. Maybe he should have brought his security. Or at least told someone where he was going to be in case he was kidnapped and never seen from again. 

“Are you a crazy fan?” He asked. 

The stranger’s eyebrows knotted in confusion. “Fan of what?”

Well, that solved it. 

“Never mind,” he sighed. “So, do I have to guess on names?”

His eyes searched Louis’, mouth pulled tight. Something in his face must have reassured him because his shoulders dropped imperceptibly and he looked away. “I’m Harry.”

It was such a normal name for such a strange person, and Louis found that it fit him. “Nice to meet ya, my name’s Louis.” Okay, yeah, he probably should have given him a fake name, but Louis figured he wasn’t One Direction’s target demographic, so it wouldn’t matter much. He would be gone in a few days, anyway. 

Before the silence could get awkward, the fish splashed once more and claimed Harry’s attention. Something in his face lit up, although, like everyone else on this island, his lips didn’t so much as quirk up. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ever think of leaving you like that,” he told the fish. “We’re getting you food then going home. You’ll like it. Mum’s plenty nice and I’ll tell Gemma not to bother you much.” Without breaking eye contact, Harry turned and walked into the pet store. Louis would have stayed rooted outside and wondered if he was supposed to follow if Harry hadn’t glanced at him and raised his eyebrows expectedly. 

Right then. Louis followed him inside the empty store. The aircon was blasting furiously inside, despite the chilly fall weather, and it smelled like wet dog. Louis immediately relaxed at the familiar smell. He hadn’t been in one of these in years, preferred shopping online nowadays, but his fingers trailed the dog collars and cat bowls reverently. Harry wandered in front of him, eyes wide as he stared at everything. 

“Know what you’re doing, Mr. Stalker?” Louis asked. 

Harry glanced back at him, probably regretting his decision already. “Not really, no,” he admitted. 

“Have you ever had a fish before?”

“No . . .?”

Louis shouldn’t laugh. He really shouldn’t. But the crushed expression on Harry’s face, as if someone stole his ice cream, combined with the situation forced giggles to spill out of his lips. Harry stopped and stared at him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh. I’ll help you.”

It took Harry a beat to respond. “Promise?” 

It shouldn’t have sounded as vulnerable as it did. Louis shouldn’t be as fond as he was. “Of course. C’mon.” He led the way to the back of the pet store, where he could see various fish supplies underneath a sign with Eroda’s fish mascot hanging above. Harry walked past the fishbowls and straight to the cans of fish food. 

He hesitated. “What kind of food should he have?”

“Dunno. Depends on what kind of fish he is.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I dunno.“

Louis blinked. “Where did you get the fish?”

Pink climbed up Harry’s neck and his ears. “Found him at the beach. He wasn’t - he needed me.” His voice was small.

Louis didn’t know whether to laugh or pat his back sympathetically. He decided on exhaling through his nose. “You are truly strange, Mr. Stalker.”

Harry didn’t respond. If Louis was smart, he would have noticed the tightening of his shoulders. It was a good thing Louis was an idiot. 

“What do you prefer?” He asked the fish, lifting him up to see the choices. “This one has blood worms in it. That, I dunno about that one, but it says it makes your water clean.” Louis wasn’t sure how he was doing it, but it looked like he was having an actual conversation with the fish. Harry brought him up to see every brand available, humming his agreement as they had a silent discussion. Honestly, Harry was the weirdest person Louis had ever met, and he used to go on tour with Niall Horan. But he still couldn’t find it in himself to leave. This was the distraction he was looking for. 

After what felt like forever, Harry plucked a simple blue container from the shelf with a happy-looking goldfish on it. He turned and looked taken aback to see Louis still standing there with arms crossed, an amused smile on his face. “You’re still here?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Did you. . . .want me to leave?” Louis bit his lips nervously. Harry’s eyes flickered down to watch the movement before looking back up. Louis pretended not to notice. 

“No, I just thought…” Harry pressed his fish closer to his chest. “I thought you would leave." 

"Why would I do that? I find you quite interesting, Harry." 

Something in his eyes flickered and his face softened. Imperceptibly, but it did. He averted his eyes, but couldn’t quite hide the soft blush on his cheeks. Louis saw it as an accomplishment. Harry didn’t respond, but he did lead Louis to the cash register, shooting quick glances at him as they navigated past pet beds and collars. 

The man behind the register was big and burly, just like almost every other local on this island. Louis wasn’t sure what was in the water, but the cashier had a thick black beard and stony face. Harry silently pushed the fish food - just one? - towards him. The man looked Harry up and down and frowned. 

“Just this?” He asked, voice rumbling like thunder.

Harry nodded. Louis frowned. Was he this silent with everyone? No wonder he was friends with a fish. 

He rang it up. “Your mum doing alright? She’s in that big house down by Larry’s antique shop, no?”

Harry tensed. Not a lot, but enough that anyone who was looking at him would notice. Louis was looking, of course. “Yeah, she’s - er, she’s alright. Gemma’s coming ‘round for the holidays so she’ll be - yeah.”

“Keeping out of trouble?” The man was interrogating Harry and Louis didn’t like it. Harry was clearly uncomfortable. He was two seconds away from demanding who he thought he was, but it wasn’t his place. He didn’t know Harry. Maybe he was actually fine and the two knew each other way back. He was overreacting, maybe. 

“Uh-”

The door behind the cashier swung open and a guy not much older than them came out, his arms filled with boxes. He set them on the counter and flicked his hair out of his face. “Pa, I got the birdcages-” He stopped short when he saw Harry, who let out a soft squeak and shrunk back. His eyes narrowed. “What is this freak doing here?”

The cashier sighed as if this was a conversation they had a million times. “Johnny-”

Harry looked down, ashamed. “Sorry, I-”

Something in Louis snapped. He stomped up to the register and slammed his palms on the counter. All three men jumped. “What the fuck is your problem, mate?”

The twat, Johnny, looked taken aback. “I - what-?”

“Is that how you go around treating customers?” He demanded. “Harry’s done nothing to deserve a twat like you saying awful things about him. That kinda attitude isn’t good for business, and we’ve half a mind to take our money elsewhere. Next time you think of letting shit come out of your mouth ‘stead of words, don’t. Harold, grab your things and let’s go.” 

Harry blinked, shifting his eyes from Louis to Johnny. His shopping bag was already in his hands. “I - uh, sor-”

Louis wrapped his fingers around the wrist carrying the bag. They were bigger than he expected, and his skin was ice cold yet soft. He tugged. “Don’t apologize, they don’t deserve it.” He turned back to the father and son, who looked at Louis with mouths agape. “Unless you fix that godawful attitude of yours, you won’t be seeing much business anymore. I’ll guarantee it.” 

Satisfied with his threat, Louis stormed out, Harry trailing behind him. Louis was too pent up with anger to care about where he was going, and he would have walked to the ocean if Harry hadn’t grabbed the back of his shirt before he could walk in the middle of the street. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

Louis stopped and turned, Harry’s wide eyes staring back at him. Immediately, he felt ashamed and nervous. “Oh, God, I shouldn’t have done that, should I? I’ve always had a bad habit of biting me tongue, but I shouldn’t have done that for you-”

Harry shook his head, interrupting him with a quiet, “ ‘S fine. Johnny does that all the time.”

“And you let him?” Louis frowned. 

He shrugged. 

“You can’t just let that wanker say shit about you. It’ll never end unless you tell it to end, and you don’t deserve that kind of shit on you, Harold.” 

Harry tilted his head to the side, searching Louis’ face. Louis fidgeted with his hands, unsure if he said too much but knowing he didn’t regret it. Finally, Harry said, “That’s not my name.”

“What?”

“ ‘M name’s not Harold,” he said, a slight twitch to his lips. 

Louis snorted. “Out of everything I said, that’s what you settled on?”

Harry didn’t respond, but he did start walking again. Down the cobbled streets, weaving past the tourists - why were there so many? - taking pictures of themselves in front of store windows. He walked slowly, as if taking care to make sure they walked side by side, arms a breath apart. Louis, who was sure Harry’s long legs could overtake him without trying, appreciated the sentiment. They didn’t talk as they walked. Louis didn’t know where they were going and Harry didn’t supply it. Louis didn’t mind as much as he should have. 

After a few minutes, Harry broke the silence. “Thank you. For what you did. But I didn’t need it.”

Louis glanced at him, but Harry’s eyes were trained on his fish. “Kinda looked like you did. But it’s okay, I get it. I don’t like people fighting my battles.” He used to have someone fight them with him. The thought depressed the hell out of him so he pushed it away. 

“They - He’s not that bad,” he murmured. “We just don’t get along.”

“Then there must be something wrong with him if he can’t get along with you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Harry argued. 

Louis paused. Because he didn’t. He didn’t know this quiet man with his soft green eyes and golden fish. They haven’t even met until today, and seeing each other outside the pub didn’t count. Louis didn’t know anything about him, about whether or not he was hiding behind this gentle façade and was just waiting for the right moment to expose him. The more he thought about it, the more worried he became. Because, yeah, didn’t he just threaten someone’s business for a complete stranger? He wasn’t really lying low at that point. What if that twat, Johnny, recognized him? What if he was tweeting about the encounter right now? Oh God, what would the press say about it?

**_‘Boyband Member, Louis Tomlinson, Threatens Innocent People In Pet Stores’_ **

Management would love that, he reckoned. 

While Louis was having an internal meltdown, Harry peeked at him curiously. He stopped suddenly and turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m kidnapping you.”

“What?” Louis startled, almost bumping into the other man. 

“I mean, I didn’t even ask where you were going before dragging you to the pet shop with me,” Harry continued. “I’m sorry, you were probably on your way to do something and I just-” He stopped himself and looked down. Louis frowned, not enjoying the sad look on his face. 

“No, it’s alright, mate,” he consoled Harry, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. Harry stared at the contact and Louis nervously withdrew it. Fuck, should he not have done that? “I was just going ‘round the island for something to do. I heard there was a movie playing somewhere but the website didn’t tell me much. I’m shit at being a tourist.”

Harry hesitated. “How long are you here for?”

“Dunno. Few days, maybe. Why?”

Harry didn’t respond, he just gazed at Louis expectantly. He felt like he was supposed to be saying something, but he didn’t know what. It was easy, getting lost in this strange not-quite-uncomfortable silence with Harry, which was terrifying to think of. He hadn’t been this comfortable with a stranger since Zayn, and look at how well that turned out. 

Louis looked around and balked at their surroundings. The streets didn’t look familiar. “Where are we?”

Harry ducked his head. “Uh, I accidentally brought you to my neighborhood. Forgot that you weren’t - yeah. Sorry.”

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. Harry was so adorably awkward that he wasn’t even upset. “ ‘S fine, Harry. You’ll just have to show me the way back to the hotel.”

Harry - he didn’t smile. Not really. But his face lit up and Louis kind of understood what he meant when talked about sunlight. Harry glowed like a magical creature and Louis couldn’t do much but watch him. Louis wasn’t daft, or at least not more than usual. He was obviously attracted to Harry, whose beauty made his chest hurt. But it didn’t mean anything and it wouldn’t go anywhere. Harry’s beautiful eyes and loosely curled hair and adorable expressions were Louis’ type, s’all, and in a couple of days, he would be gone. He was just attaching himself to the first half-nice bloke on this island. He was just lonely.

(That didn’t stop warmth from pooling in his gut when he gazed at Harry’s face, though.)

“Which hotel are you staying in?” Harry asked, breaking Louis out of his musings. 

“Yuna Inn,” he replied. “Heard it was very popular.” 

Harry’s face fell. “Oh, yeah. I know it.”

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, I just-” He stopped himself.

“Mate, you gotta stop doing that,” Louis groaned, exasperated. 

“Doing what?”

“Saying things without explaining them. Look, if I’m bothering you, you can tell me to fuck off. I don’t mind. I tend to cling myself to people and annoy them until they get rid of me or-” They fall madly in love with me, he didn’t add. He really shouldn’t think things like that. 

Harry shook his head. “No, I - you’re not bothering me. It’s just -” He hesitated. “Around Yuna Inn, there’s a lot more Johnny’s.”

Louis’ face scrunched up in confusion. “What?”

“People don’t. . . they don’t like me much,” he murmured, voice soft and heartbreaking. “They, not just Johnny, think I’m, er, peculiar.”

Louis’ eyebrows rose. “Bullshit,” he blurted out, because it was. Louis might not know Harry at all, but there was nothing in this fish-loving, floppy-haired, long-legged man to make anyone hate him. Harry barely looked Louis in the eye their entire conversation, talked ten times slower than the average human, and shined so bright every time he looked at his pet fish. How could anyone hate him? “What makes you more peculiar than the rest of ‘em?”

“You really think so?” Harry looked surprised. He looked like he had never heard anyone say something like that before. Maybe he hadn’t. Louis felt simultaneously sorry for Harry and angry at the rest of the locals who hated such a sweet-looking boy. 

“Yes,” he said firmly. 

Harry’s lips twitched again and he looked down at his golden fish. For a few seconds, he stood there, gazing into the fish eyes, face contorting as if he didn’t know what expression to make. Finally, he asked, softly but less heartbreaking, “Can I walk you back to the hotel?”

Louis let out a relieved breath. “Yeah, sure.”

Their walk back was shorter than Louis expected, probably because they spent most of it in easy conversation. Louis wanted to talk about why everyone was so against him, but Harry had a sad shine in his eyes every time Louis brought it up, so he deflected with questions about the island’s attractions. Harry’s face lit up again, and although he didn’t quite smile, his voice was fond when he talked about the old pirates that used to rest in Yuna after raiding English villages. He explained how they used to wear a single golden earring for luck, and even now the local fisherman were rarely seen without them. Louis didn’t understand most of what he said, but he was mesmerized by this Harry, this Harry with excitement in his eyes as he stumbled over words, trying to find the best way to explain everything. He liked this Harry better than the closed off one, and it scared him how much he wanted to see more of this. More of Harry, unguarded. 

Harry was in the middle of a story about a legendary man who founded The Fisherman’s Pub and had one eye mauled by a giant whale when they reached the town center. Louis wouldn’t have noticed if Harry hadn’t suddenly clammed up and pulled his fish closer to his chest. No one was paying them any mind, which Louis was eternally grateful for, but Harry’s eyes still shifted from side to side as if the entire world was staring at him. Louis tried to coax the rest of the story out of him but stopped when he realized he would get nothing more than mumbling. 

He noticed the old man he talked to earlier, the one with a pipe, leaning against the same wall, staring at the two of them with a troubled look. Louis frowned and turned his body so that he could block Harry from his sight. Maybe Harry did have beef with the entire island. It was still too ludicrous to think of, having everyone hate someone like Harry. It didn’t seem possible. Maybe it was an exaggeration. Maybe it was really two or three but felt the entire world.

Harry brought him back to Yuna Inn, whose front steps were crawling with tourists getting ready to explore the island. Maybe he should have taken one of those pamphlet things the rest of them had.

Louis turned to Harry and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you for walking me back. I’d have gotten lost without you.”

“No problem, really.” He hesitated, looked down, then glanced up at Louis through his eyelashes. Harry was so pretty. It was truly unfair how pretty he was, how soft his skin looked and how pink his lips were. Louis swallowed and tried to focus on his words. “Do you want me to. . .”

“Want me?”

“To, erm, show you around?” He asked, face scrunched up as if he didn’t mean for it to come out that way. His face was slowly turning pink. “You said you were bad at tourist things, and, uh, I know a lot about Eroda.”

Louis couldn’t believe his luck. “You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah?” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t mind. You’re very-” He waved the hand holding the fish food around in a vague gesture. “- and you don’t mind. My fish. You don’t mind him and me.”

Louis grinned. “That’s great, mate. I would love to.”

He could honestly stand here forever, grinning at Harry, who was blushing with every second that passed. But then his eyes flickered over Louis’ shoulder and his face paled. Louis frowned and tried to follow his gaze, but all he could see were the tourists and Clara sweeping the front steps. She noticed them and Louis waved at her. She acknowledged him with a nod but froze when she saw Harry. 

“I - uh, go? I should go?” Harry stammered. “It was nice meeting you, Louis.”

Before Louis could properly say goodbye (and ask what the fuck was going on), Harry walked away, his back tense and hunched. Louis turned back to Clara, who was watching Harry leave with a strange look in her eyes. Not exactly mean, but something like it. Louis, a bit pissed and confused, stomped up to her. 

“What was that?” He asked, arms crossed. “You scared him off.”

Clara’s brows furrowed. She rested her chin on the handle of the broom and looked up at Louis (well, not really. Annoyingly enough, she was taller than him by a bit). “How do you know Harry?”

“How do you know Harry?” Louis shot back, a little childishly. 

“My older sister went to school with him,” she responded. Her voice was a bit strange. 

“What’s your problem with him? He’s a good lad.” 

Something passed over her face but Louis couldn’t describe it. After a few moments of heavy silence, Clara pushed off the broom and collected herself. “Would you like some tea?”

Louis, taken aback, asked, “What?”

“My mum keeps her special kettle hidden from the guests.” At Louis’ confused face, she explained, “Mum says it’s better to listen to stories while drinking tea.”

“Ah, sure, then?” Louis was still confused, but if Clara was going to finally explain what was up, he’d drink anything she gave him. There was more to the story than Harry being peculiar, he was sure of it. 

Without another word, Clara walked back into Yuna’s Inn, Louis trailing behind her. She placed the broom and dustpan in a small closet near the receptionist desk, kissed her mother on the cheek, then led him to a doorway partly hidden by a large, fake, house plant. Inside was a small kitchenette. It was surprisingly modern for how rustic feeling the inn was. The fridge was stainless steel, along with an electric stove. A dark wood table sat in the middle of the room, four leather-backed seats centered around it. It smelled like wood smoke and warmth. Louis didn’t know much about kitchens, his own cooking skills being much to desire, but it looked impressive and had almost everything he expected kitchens to have. 

Louis stood awkwardly in the doorway while Clara bustled around, procuring a kettle from God knows where and filling it up with water. “Do you have a preference?” She asked.

“Yorkshire, if you have any,” he replied. 

She grabbed a box from a cabinet. “Still take it with milk, no sugar?”

He opened his mouth in shock, but she just threw him a glance. “How did you-?”

“I told you, I’m a fan of yours,” she said as if it wasn’t a big deal. It was hard wrapping his head around the fact that this teenaged girl was a fan of One Direction, of  _ Louis _ , because she didn’t act like it. She had yet to ask him for a picture or autograph, and while Louis loved his fans more than anything in the world, they were a bit overwhelming. He immediately felt ashamed about that thought. He wouldn’t be where he was without his fans. 

Once Clara finished setting up, she sat down at the table and gave him another look. “Well, aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Right.” He sat across from her and folded his hands on the table. He sat up straight, as if that would make him seem any taller. (It didn’t.) “Harry.”

She nodded. “Harry. How’d the two of you meet?”

“I thought I was the one asking questions?” 

“It’s easier to tell the story if I know what you know.”

That made sense. He leaned back against his chair. “We met outside of the cafe, though I saw him earlier. I dunno, he seemed nice, then invited me to go shopping for fish food.”

“The fish is new,” she hummed. 

“I figured,” he said wryly. “He had no idea what he was doing.” 

Clara played with her fingers, an inquisitive look in her eyes. “You went to the pet store? Bone Appetit?”

“Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“It’s our only pet store. It’s a small island. Was Johnny there?”

Louis scowled. “The twat who was rude to Harry? Yeah, he was. I said some things I shouldn’t have, but he deserved it. Hope he didn’t recognize me, though, that would be bad.”

“Johnny isn’t the type to believe what’s in front of him,” she shrugged. “I’ll talk to him, anyway. He’s close friends with my sister.”

“The one who went to school with Harry?”

She nodded and looked down. She almost looked guilty. “How much did Harry tell you? About Johnny?”

“Not much, really. Just that Johnny and most of the island don’t like him much because he’s ‘peculiar’.” He used air quotes around the word, still unsure as to how that mattered much. Other than his apparent love of fish, Harry hadn’t seemed anymore odd than the average folks walking the streets of London. 

Clara frowned and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her lips were pursed and she refused to look him in the eye. Ah, well then. This was interesting. Almost as if timed, the kettle whistled and Clara sprung up. She quickly poured the tea and passed Louis his. The mug was tacky and had a frog on a unicycle on it, but it suited him. He wrapped his hands around it, relishing the warmth seeping into his skin. He relaxed slightly. 

Clara was stirring sugar into hers. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, hopefully gathering her thoughts. Finally, she sighed. “You might have already noticed, but in all the world, there’s never quite been a land like Eroda. We’re a small fishing village, forgotten by everyone except tourists. It’s familiar, it’s home, and no one ever leaves. There’s no reason to. We have everything we need here, we know everyone we need to.”

She stopped herself. Louis took a sip of his tea before nudging her on. “But. . .?”

“When you’re faced,” she started slowly, “with something you’ve never seen before, how do you react?”

“What does that have to do with Harry?”

“When you find something truly. . .peculiar, how do you deal with it?” And there was that word again. _Peculiar._ Louis didn’t think they were using it the same way.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. 

“Neither did we,” Clara whispered. She let her expression sadden for several seconds before clearing her throat and pulling herself together. “When he was born, everyone already knew Harry was peculiar. The doctors kept him in the hospital a little longer than usual because they thought something could be. . .fixed.”

“But what was wrong with him?”

She continued on as if she didn’t hear him. “No one ever meant to hurt him. Not really. Not even Johnny. Their mums were friends, you see, and they thought they would be too. But Harry was too different. We’ve already grown used to the way life was, seeing Harry’s peculiarness made us realize we didn’t really know what to we were doing.”

“But what was it?” Louis asked, exasperated. None of it was making sense. 

“We tried to ignore it,” Clara continued, staring deep into her tea. She hadn’t yet drunk it. “We thought that if we pretended it didn’t exist, then it would go away. But Harry was still there, and I guess he thought so too-”

“You bullied Harry into isolation?” He interrupted. “That’s - that’s so fucked.” He ran his hand through his hair, but found he was too restless to sit. Jumping up, he began to pace the floor. “Oh my God, that’s so fucked.”

“I didn’t - well, not directly,” she amended. “But you have to understand, we didn’t know what else to do. No one else realizes it, but I do. We went about it wrong.”

“God, no wonder he acts like that.” Louis was getting pissed. Majorly pissed. He didn’t know who to yell at first, Clara, Johnny, or Harry for letting them hurt him. He stopped suddenly and turned to Clara, who hadn’t moved from her spot at the table. “Does he - does no one stick up for him?”

She shook her head. “When one person starts something, the rest of the world follows. It just so happened that Johnny was the one who started it, and our world is found on Eroda.”

“That doesn’t explain what’s so peculiar about him!” Louis tried to lower his voice because, frankly, he was bad at this entire ‘lying low’ thing. “Why doesn’t anyone give him a chance?”

“Someone did,” she said softly. “You did. I’m sorry I can’t tell you, Louis, it’s something you have to ask Harry yourself. I think you would be good for him.”

“Me, good for him?” He scoffed. “Really?”

She nodded earnestly, ignoring the tone in his voice. “Really. I’ve heard from people talking that Harry - he’s different. He hides from people now. But he would show you. You’re bright.”

Harry had said the same thing. Or, at least, he said something like that. Something about sunlight. Louis didn’t know what the fuck it meant, and it frustrated him more than it should have. 

“Has the sun been out more these past couple of days?” He asked before he could stop himself. 

Clara tilted her head at the awkward change in topic, but she didn’t comment on it. “Yeah, I would say so. Less cloud coverage these days.”

But that still didn’t make sense. Thinking about it would drive Louis crazy, so he exhaled a big sigh and forced himself to sit down. He took another sip of tea - it was alright, not as good if he would make it - and tried to collect his thoughts. The problem was, what could he think? He didn’t come to Eroda to try and make a lonely boy with a golden fish his friend. Not when he was going to leave soon. Not when he had a life outside of the island. Not when Liam and Niall were still blowing up his phone every chance they could get. He didn’t have the time nor the mental energy for Harry. 

He needed to go home. He needed to figure out what the hell they were going to do about the band. He had to learn to live without Zayn, because dammit, he used to be Louis’ closest mate. His plans didn’t include Harry. 

Sighing again, he set down his tea. “Tell me more about Harry. How do I get him to be my friend?”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> For more larry content, follow my twitter: @stayintheam28


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